Assorted Drabbles and Ficlets
by Blonde Cecile
Summary: My assorted drabbles and ficlets. Generally range from 100 to 500 words. Most are AxH, but gen and other pairings are there and will continue to be added, including slash and femslash. Feedback feeds my hungry heart.
1. Page Turning

I see that a few others have been posting their Hey Arnold drabbles in this way, so I thought I might as well do it too, since I've written a fair few on livejournal this past year. Please note that most of these take place when the characters are at least teenagers, and in some cases, adults. Most of these are between 100 and 500 words, and **none of them are connected** unless stated otherwise. The majority are Arnold/Helga, but other pairings (including slash and femslash) are very possible.

**Disclaimer: ** Hey Arnold belongs to Craig Bartlett, not me. I make no money from these.

* * *

_(Originally posted: 05/15/06)_**  
**

**Title:** Page-turning  
**Rating:** G  
**Words:** 100  
**Characters:** Helga

* * *

When Arnold left, Helga turned to reading. 

She read all kinds of stories, hours on end. Mysteries, romances, adventure novels... they all had their appeal. Each one unraveled a new, unique sequence of events, some filling her with optimism, others snatching it away. She found herself reading during lunch, during math, at the park, and of course, at home.

And when Bob's booming voice ripped her away from the words on the page one night, as it had countless times before, Helga decided that this time was different.

She packed her bag and decided to go on her own adventure.

* * *


	2. Smooth

_(Originally posted: 04/17/06)_

**Title:** Smooth  
**Rating: **PG  
**Words: **100  
**Pairing: **Arnold/Helga

* * *

Her hands were so smooth, he wondered what she did to make them that way. She played just as many sports as he did, but his hands were rough and sort of felt like Abner. 

He looked back up at her. The streetlight behind her made her glow. He wanted to say something, but couldn't think of any words. She met his eyes before nervously glancing away.

"Arnold..."

"_Helga_," he said in a way that drew her gaze down to his mouth.

And she leaned in to kiss him before he could stop her, but he wouldn't have tried anyway.

* * *


	3. The Lemon Puddin' Cupboard

_(Originally posted: 05/05/06)_

**  
Title:** The Lemon Puddin' Cupboard  
**Rating:** G  
**Words:** 100  
**Characters:** Rhonda, Stinky  
**A/N:** Just my silly attempt at dialogue only.

* * *

"I sure do love lemon puddin'!" 

"Stinky, you've said that since we were five. Shut up, already!"

"Garsh, Rhonda, you seem upset."

"You think?"

"Well, I sure don't understand why. Seems to me that if we had to be locked in a cupboard together, a cupboard full of lemon puddin' would be about the best possibility for us to be stuck with."

"Just shut up, Stinky."

"I reckon if we didn't wind up with each other when we played spin the bottle at Arnold's, people wouldn't be lockin' us in cupboards so often."

"WHY ME?! WHY IS IT _ALWAYS _ME?!"

* * *


	4. Can't

_(Originally posted: 05/05/06)_

**  
Title:** Can't  
**Rating:** PG  
**Words:** 100  
**Characters:** Dr. Bliss, Helga

* * *

"I'll die without him."

The words caused Dr. Bliss' pen to falter.

"That isn't true, Helga."

"It is. I can't live without him," Helga said, voice thick with emotion. Dr. Bliss gazed down at her hypnotized patient. They'd been practicing hypnosis for a few months now. Most of the time Helga did very well, but every so often her state of mind would jump, and Dr. Bliss wondered if they were making any progress at all.

"He's leaving in two weeks, Helga. To move on, it's essential that you accept that."

Tears trickled out from her closed eyelids. "I can't."

* * *


	5. Popsicles in a Tree

_(Originally posted: 06/12/06) _

**Title: **Popsicles in a Tree  
**Rating:** PG-13, for a questionable popsicle reference  
**Words:** Screw limitation! 314 words, baby!  
**Pairing:** Arnold/Helga  
**Warning:** Pointless, sugary sweetness.  
**Influences:** Ending influenced by that Antoine de Saint-Exupery quote.  
**Summary: **Frisky teenagers in a tree. With popsicles. (Established relationship.)  
**A/N: **Today I said unto Smichiko: "Kimmee, I wish to write drabble, but inspiration is so despairingly sparse! Whatever shall I do?" to which she replied: "Popsicles. Popsicles in a tree."

This fluffs for you, Kimmee.

* * *

The limb under Arnold's foot threatened to break. Carefully, he found better footing and eased himself up onto the thick branch where Helga sat, swinging her legs like a carefree child. Arnold wiped the sweat from his brow. 

"Thanks for the help, _sweetheart_," he said, playfully emphasizing the use of one of the pet names Helga liked to both mock and use meaningfully, depending on her mood.

"Sure thing, _darling_." She dropped a wrapped popsicle in his lap, and he looked up to see her smile wickedly around the bright red popsicle between her lips. He blushed accordingly.

He unwrapped the popsicle, mindful not to let the wrapper drift away as Helga probably had. It glistened bright green under the evening sun. He grinned at her, not needing to mention that green was his favorite color.

His eyes soon began bouncing between hers and her shining, red mouth. Helga glanced around for any possible onlookers - She liked to think of their meetings as clandestine, but Arnold knew that it was common knowledge among their peers. He let her fantasize, anyway.

The two of them leaned in to kiss at the same time, each with one arm holding the small branch above them for better balance. Arnold scooched closer to fully taste the cheap, sugary flavor that coated Helga's tongue. Delicious.

Helga let her popsicle stick drop and released the branch to slip her arms around his waist. She settled against him as they turned toward the city scenery, silhouetted by the sinking sun. Sometimes Arnold liked to join Helga in her fantasy of secrecy and seclusion. It made things feel more... secret and secluded.

He mouthed his popsicle slowly and felt Helga sigh against him. She watched the setting sun with rapt, or perhaps detached, attention - it didn't matter. Smiling, he pressed her firmly to him and looked outward in the same direction.

* * *


	6. Common Interests

_(Originally posted: 05/01/06) _

**Title: **Common Interests  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Words:** 100  
**Characters:** Mostly just Lila.  
**Warning: **Angst. Brief mention of drug use.

* * *

Lila looked around her.

The faces at her table were dull and disinterested. One of them was asleep.

She told herself that these were her friends. These were the people she got along with and shared common interests with. Her posse.

But when she looked across the room, envy clawed beneath her skin like it wanted out. Four tables over, Gerald made a joke, and the others laughed. Even Helga cracked a smile.

"Wanna blow fourth hour?" a voice came from her right, "Jay's got coke in his car."

Lila buried her face in her arms and went to sleep.

* * *


	7. Unimportance, Possibility

The following two drabbles are companions, written for Smichiko's birthday. _(Originally posted 10/30/06)_

* * *

**Title:** The Unimportance of Math  
**Pairing:** Arnold/Helga  
**Rated:** G  
**Words:** 100

Helga tugs her hat down and sinks in her chair to read Arnold's letter for the fourteenth time. She re-memorizes every loop and angle of blue ink that speak of jungle animals and shining blue skies. When she's done, she carefully tucks it away.

As class silently gets a head start on today's geometry homework, Helga slides her notebook over her math and puts her pink pen to the page. Problem is, she can't think of anything to reply with except a thousand "I love you"'s, which seems a bit much.

Instead, she unfolds Arnold's letter for a fifteenth time.

* * *

**Title: **The Possibility of Promises  
**Pairing:** Arnold/Helga  
**Rated: **G  
**Words:** 100

Sometimes Arnold regrets everything.

He walks beneath the wondrously blue skies of San Lorenzo, toward the local post office, and sighs. He loves his parents, and the skies here, but he can't help but scold himself for loving a girl and leaving her with nothing but an old hat and impossible promises.

So it is with such tremendous surprise that Arnold finds a pink-scrawled envelope atop this week's mail that he nearly spills it all across the floor. Rather, he thanks the postal worker with rushed words, refreshed with hope that those promises might not be so impossible after all.

* * *


	8. Away

_(Originally posted 01/30/07 )_

**Title: **Away  
**Characters/Pairings: **Helga/Rhonda (pre-femslash)  
**Rating: **PG  
**Words: **340  
**Prompt: **livejournal 10hiddenrealms Set C, Theme 6: Forgotten; amnesia  
**Summary:** No one ever leaves Wenden, Arizona. Not for good, anyway. **Alternate Universe.**

* * *

"Someday I'll drive away from here," Helga says one day at the bus stop. She smashes her cigarette into the ground once the school bus comes barreling over the hill, dust swirling behind it. "Far, far away. And I'll forget all of you."

Rhonda wants to drive away too, but never says as much. She merely laughs along with the others, because this is Wenden, Arizona, and nobody leaves here. Not for good, anyway.

Still, Rhonda likes to dream of other places. She likes to hide Vogue magazines in her lap during History class, and rake her eyes over the flat, paper women, all dolled up in the latest New York trends. She must have been through this magazine a dozen times by now, but she never gets tired of it.

A snort comes from beside her, and she realizes Helga is leaning over to peek. Quickly, Rhonda shoves the magazine away and glares at Helga, but it's too late, and the strange, somewhat-amused look in Helga's eyes haunts Rhonda for the rest of the day. Sometimes she hates Helga, but most of the time she just doesn't know what to think. They're more than a few pennies shy of being rivals, but they're a far cry from friends, too.

So it comes as a surprise when, a few days later, Helga drives up to the bus stop in an old grey car Rhonda had never seen before. "Where'd you get that?" the others blather in surprise, but Helga ignores them. She flicks her cigarette casually, and pins Rhonda with a look.

"You coming?"

Rhonda stands very still as the others chatter and watch for her reaction. She squints out at the hill just as the bus comes barreling over it, dust swirling, and before Rhonda can reconsider, she juts her chin out and strolls over to the passenger side of the car.

"You'll be back," someone says. "No one ever leaves Wenden for good! Remember that!"

But by the time Rhonda gets in the car, she has already forgotten.

* * *


	9. Fading Music

_(Originally posted: 11/08/06) _

**Title: **Fading Music  
**Pairings:** They're het, I'll say that much.  
**Rating:** PG  
**Words: **100

* * *

In her dreams, Helga dances.

She dances to a melody long forgotten, or perhaps long ignored. It echoes from the far corners of her mind; she can't quite hear it, but she dances anyway. Arnold is always with her.

Sometimes he dances too, sometimes not. Helga's just happy to see him in a place where marriages and moving trucks don't exist. A place where it's just him and her and fading music. Lila has never set foot here.

In the stillness of night, in between her dreams, Helga looks at Gerald, asleep beside her, and wonders what might have been.

* * *


	10. Hairy Animals with Very Wet Tongues

_(Originally posted: 01/22/07) _

**Title:** Hairy Animals with Very Wet Tongues  
**Characters: **Helga, Arnold  
**Rating:** G  
**Words:** 260  
**Prompt:** livejournal haprompts Set One: E) dogs**  
**

* * *

"Oof!" 

Helga fell back into the snow bank, and was immediately harassed by a pack of hairy animals with very wet tongues.

"Get back! Chester, back! C'mon Rover!" Arnold's voice came, and he was soon able to control the dogs, pulling them back by their leashes and giving Helga enough time to stand.

"Yuck! What are you trying to do, trample me to death?" she complained, and stopped wiping snow off her coat to bring a hand to her face. She grimaced. "Or _slobber _on me to death. Yuck!"

"Sorry about that, Helga." Arnold, the old-fashioned gentleman he was, managed to pull a very gentlemanly handkerchief from his pocket and hand it to her.

She smirked as she wiped her cheek dry. "Dog-walking business not going as planned?"

"Well, it's not what I expected, that's for sure. I'm _exhausted_," Arnold said. Helga looked at him and snorted. It looked as though the dogs had stolen all of Arnold's energy and multiplied it among themselves. They bounced around at his feet, tugging him in three different directions at once.

"See you later Helga!" he was forced to yell as the dogs got the better of him and pulled him away. She watched him go, then remembered the handkerchief in her hand. She contemplated taking it home, possibly sleeping with it under her pillow, but poor Arnold wasn't even walking the dogs anymore - they were walking him.

So she held the piece of cloth up to her chest, sighed a little, then ran up the street to give him a hand.

* * *


	11. Sin

_(Originally posted 11/28/06) _

**Title:** Sin  
**Pairing:** Gerald/Rhonda  
**Rating: **PG-13/T for lust and sexy smoking!  
**Words: **255  
**Warning:** Adultery.  
**A/N:** They're adults! Just so you know.

* * *

Sin swept through Gerald's veins like surging adrenaline. He kept his hood up to protect his hair from the rain's rage, and paced down the sidewalk until finally, the old vacant lot came into view. 

He took off toward the stands. Beneath them, it was dry enough to free his hair and catch a silhouette with the orange tip of a lit cigarette over at the more shadowy end of the stands. Excitement plunged deep in his stomach as lightening revealed Rhonda leaning back, smoking, and looking so good it gave Gerald unwarranted nicotine cravings.

She was wearing a large, warm-looking coat (made of some expensive material, he was sure) that looked as though it could easily wrap around more than one person. Her cigarette dropped to the mud and went out with a sad hiss, then she reached up and took out the clip that held her hair. Dark locks swam down to frame her dark face.

Even as he moved toward her, even as he slide his cold hands up her warm shirt and his cell phone rang again and again and again, he knew it was wrong. Sin, his mother would say, because the gold on his finger represented a godly bond that ought not be broken. Gerald couldn't help it - he wasn't complete until hands like these were raking his hair and the thirst inside was quenching, quenching closer and closer to that merciless satisfaction. He needed this.

And besides, he rationalized, what Phoebe didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

* * *


	12. Details

_(Originally posted: 04/30/07) _

**Title:** Details  
**Characters:** Lila, Helga  
**Rating:** G/K  
**Words:** 182  
**Prompt:** LJ haprompts. Set Seven; Prompt C: lost in translation  
**A/N:** Heh, the relation to the prompt is a little weak here, but I'm posting it anyway. This takes place when they're teenagers and Helga has learned more about poetry since her "sultry pre-teen" days. xD

* * *

Helga dropped her notebook on the table and sighed in Lila's general direction. "But you don't _need_ all those details - it's a poem, not a novel!"

Lila glanced at Helga's notebook, the one she always had with her. It seemed to be almost completely full, with only a few blank pages left. "The teacher said it's important to create vivid images, though," Lila pointed out.

"Yeah, but you gotta do it with as few words as possible," Helga explained. "Poetry is supposed to leave a lot to the reader's imagination. All that extra flowery gibberish is just gonna make 'em lose track of what you're trying to say. Trust me. I mean, I've only been writing it since I was _seven_. I think I know a thing or two about writing a poem."

"I think you do too," Lila said with a smile.

Helga stilled for a tentative moment. Then quickly, she buried her face and pen in her notebook again, and - perhaps it was just a trick of light - but Lila thought she might've been smiling too.

* * *


	13. Scorched

_(Originally posted: 04/30/07) _

**Title:** Scorched  
**Characters:** Phoebe, Helga  
**Rating:** PG/K+  
**Words:** 146  
**Prompt:** LJ haprompts. Set Six; Prompt D: "I have something very important to tell you."  
**A/N:** Adults.

* * *

"I have something very important to tell you." 

"Oh god," Helga muttered from a lipful of cigarette. "You're not getting married already, are you? 'Cause if I have to wear another lace-based monstrosity like I had to wear at Olga's-"

"No," Phoebe said. She wiped her sweaty palms slowly down her polyester pants. "It's - well, you see - Arnold got a really good job offer. In Texas."

Helga stared. "Well, it's just too good to refuse," Phoebe explained further. "So, um. Well, I've - I've decided to go with him."

"To Texas," Helga said plainly, no longer looking at her.

"Yes."

"Oh."

It wasn't even because of Arnold anymore, Phoebe knew. It was because of _her_. Best Friends Forever is a promise, but forever is hard when you're thousands of miles away.

Helga took a particularly long drag from her cigarette.

Phoebe's insides scorched with guilt.

* * *


	14. Just Once

_(Originally posted: 03/27/07)_

**Title:** Just Once  
**Characters:** Rhonda, Helga  
**Rating:** PG-13/T  
**Words:** 778  
**Warning: **CRACK!  
**Summary:** Rhonda's career crumbles, which of course means her life is over. Drinks all around!**  
A/N:** Written for my lovely friend, lightbird. Her prompt for me was "fall from grace".

* * *

"This can't be good."

Rhonda pulled her face out of her shot glass and squinted around.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Helga Pakati," she greeted.

"It's _Pataki_." Helga leaned against the bar, surveying Rhonda's slumped form. Rhonda noted that the girl even managed to have sorry taste in plain white t-shirts.

"Tha's what I said. So, what brings you to this (_hiccup_) part of the neighborhood?"

"I just got off work," Helga said, by way of an answer, and sat down on the stool beside her. "You?"

Rhonda was just about to reply with, "Where do you work - the Fruit of the Loom factory?" when something along the lines of "I LOST MY JOB" came out instead. She dropped her forehead to the bar with a dull thump.

"Oh god." Helga looked as though she'd regretted sitting next to her, and quickly looked around for an escape.

"It's not fair!" exclaimed Rhonda, her arms attempting to convey the girth of the unfairness. "I was on the brink of it all, Pakaki! My fashion lines were up there with the pros! I was this close - _THIS_ close - to success, worldwide fame at my fingertips! But then that jerk - that bastard! That was all it took. It all jus' _poof_! Y HELLO THAR, UNEMPLOYMENT. _More scotch over here_!"

"Um. I'm sure you'll, uh, make a comeback."

"NO," Rhonda spat and lifted her glass before the barman was done pouring. "It's all over for me. MY LIFE is over. Done with. Kaput. So long, Hogwarts, I'm back off to the land of Muggles. I should jus' (_hiccup_) jump off a bridge while I still-"

"Listen, princess," Helga interrupted, waving the barman away, "That's too bad about all that, but I didn't come here to exchange tears over your sob story. You think I don't have better things to do?"

Rhonda stared.

"STFU! Okay, so maybe I don't," Helga confessed. "But - look, I've been in your shoes before, okay?" She avoided Rhonda's eyes, instead opting to watch her own thumb as it grazed the edge of the bar's smooth surface. "I... I know what it's like to have something horrible happen... and to think your life is over. To have the rug pulled out from under you, and your dreams just sort of crumble away..."

Rhonda raked her mind for what Helga might be talking about, but fell short. She thought she'd kept up with her old pals' lives well enough, what with all the little outings Nadine continued to pull her to over the years, but obviously not. Come to think of it, she wasn't even sure what Nadine was up to these days. The thought made her feel lonely.

"But sometimes you just have to keep trudging through, you know?," Helga continued. "Crappy as it might seem, sometimes these things happen for a reason... and things turn out okay in the end." Finally, she looked up again. "I mean, it's not like I really give a damn what you do with your time - but getting wasted? Doesn't help. Trust me. Why don't you just go home?"

Rhonda frowned. "Can't go home. Too many beautiful fashion statements. Remind me of my pain."

Helga sighed and shut her eyes. "Alright, fine. FINE." She jumped off the stool and tried to pull Rhonda into standing as well.

"What - what are you-"

"I'm taking you home before one of those lust-eyed construction guys has a chance to take you to his."

Rhonda glanced over at a table of greasy men in neon vests. They were indeed looking her way and drooling like starved hound dogs. "I told you, I don't want to go-"

"Not your home. Mine."

"Yours?" Rhonda said with a snort.

"You can crash on my couch for a night or two until you figure things out."

Helga tried again to pull Rhonda off her stool, but she clung to the bar stubbornly. Helga let go and sighed once more.

"If there's one thing that I learned from things gone crappy, Rhonda, it's that - sometimes - I _do_ have to give a damn," she said, stepping back and looking at Rhonda with unfamiliar eyes. "Just let me do this one, stupid, nice thing for you. Just once."

Rhonda stared at Helga's proffered hand with a lifted eyebrow. It was a very strange thing to have Helga Pataki of all people offering to do something nice for you, but considering her options, it really didn't seem like such a bad offer. She only hoped Helga's apartment wasn't any worse off than her outfit.

"Jus' once," she said, rolling her eyes, and took Helga's hand.

* * *


	15. Tighter

_(Originally posted: 05/23/07)_

**Title:** Tighter  
**Pairing:** Helga/Gerald  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Words:** 134  
** A/N:** Teenage age.

* * *

Gerald winds his hands around Rhonda's sides, and Helga watches.

His grasp looks firm, and Helga thinks he probably holds things tighter now that Arnold's gone. Gerald smiles against Rhonda's lips, smiles still as she laughs and pushes him away, says something about him being too drunk and leaves to find Nadine in the crowd.

Helga takes another sip of beer from the plastic cup in her hand. When Gerald's eyes stray across the room and meet hers, she stares back.

He looks away almost immediately, because everyone knows Helga Pataki is not someone you stare at, but curiously, he keeps glancing back as though he can't help himself.

Later, when they're kissing in the messy, soon-to-be-messier laundry room, Helga grasps him firmly, and realizes she probably holds things tighter now that Arnold's gone.

* * *


	16. Counting Down

_(Originally posted 12/31/06)_

**Title:** Counting Down  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairing:** Established Arnold/Helga  
**Words:** 205

* * *

The streets were aglow with colorful lights, and Helga kept a passive face as she looked around at the crowd. People had begun to pair off as everyone looked up excitedly at the looming countdown screen. Helga wrapped her coat more tightly around herself. 

"ELEVEN! TEN! NINE-"

A touch on her upper arm and she looked up. Arnold smiled gently, two warm drinks in his hands. He held one out. She took it, not sure why she was unable to say 'thank you'.

She'd been oddly quiet the entire night and could feel his worried eyes.

"SIX! FIVE-"

"I'm sorry I have to leave again tomorrow already," Arnold spoke close.

Helga shook her head. "Lets just - let's not even talk about it."

"TWO! ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The crowd cheered and roared and confetti came from everywhere. Lights flashed and couples latched onto each other's mouths like hungry wolves. Helga felt Arnold's hand on her shoulder and turned; he stared into her eyes for a moment, then leaned in, but Helga stopped him. "No," she said under the commotion, closing her eyes to block out the lights. "Just this," she said, burying her face in soft, steady warmth of Arnold's shoulder and breathing in.

* * *


	17. Shadowed Windows

I didn't plan to post this ficlet here, I guess because normal HA! fans (unlike myself) probably see Gerald/Olga and fall into a scandalized coma, but I needed a reason say a few things here (i.e. to blatantly publicize).

FIRSTLY: The greatest thing ever has recently been posted on deviantART. It's a fifteen-page comic by CTW36, set to text I wrote last year (an AU Hey Arnold poem called "Awakened".) He illustrated my poem, you guys. It's the coolest thing ever. His art is _beautiful _. Click on my profile page to find the link!

LASTLY: Hillwood Times is a relatively new monthly Hey Arnold Newsletter on livejournal, which contains updates on all kinds of things in this fandom, including fanfic. If you want your fic(s) to be included in the newsletter, you just drop me a line! Fic does not need to be posted on livejournal to be included, it can be posted anywhere. Bear in mind that we do want the author's permission before we put anything in the newsletter, so don't vouch for anyone but yourself, please. (This also applies to artists.)

* * *

**Title:** Shadowed Windows  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing:** Gerald/Olga  
**Prompt:** haprompts on livejournal; Set Eighteen, Prompt C: Gerald and Olga

* * *

Gerald finished off his Dirty Martini while Olga's Shirley Temple sat mostly untouched. 

"You're quiet tonight," he said. She barely heard him over the music playing live at the other end of the barroom. It was a nice song about differences and needing to let go. Olga liked it.

"You've been quiet a lot lately," he added, and the pressure in her gut grew more solid. She knew it was now or never.

"Gerald," she began, "There's something we need to talk about."

She glanced over, but the depth in his eyes was too much, and she had to look away. She swirled her straw around in her drink and wondered how she let things get this far.

She forged on. "You've been so sweet to me, and I've had so much fun these past few weeks--"

"Over a month," he interjected.

"Yes, but we really haven't thought this through. We've been selfish, thinking everything is about us. Gosh, I can't even imagine what my sister would think if she found out. You're so young compared to--"

"I'm almost twenty-two!"

"And I'm almost thirty-four! Don't you see? You're younger than my baby sister, for heaven's sake."

Gerald rolled his eyes and laughed. "Only by a few months. Besides, Helga's no baby anymore. And neither am I."

"I'm at the age where I'm ready to settle down--"

"You think I'm not?"

"You have a lot of living to do yet, Gerald. You have your whole life ahead of you!"

"Olga," he said a bit too loudly, then lowered his voice before continuing. "Look, it's really not a big deal. I doubt our friends will be as shocked as you think they'll be. Strangers don't even bat an eyelash at us. Do you see any batting eyelashes? 'Cause I don't. Twenty-first century has its ups, you know."

Olga shook her head. "This is a real issue, and you're making it out to sound silly."

"That's because it _is _silly!"

The bartender came over to offer Gerald a refill, but he waved her off. He slid his hand over the short distance to rest it on Olga's. She tried to ignore how her skin tingled.

"I won't stop you if you go. You know that," he told her quietly, and it was something she wasn't used to hearing. Most men chased after her when she tried to leave them, or they ran away before she got the chance. Gerald leaned in a pressed a kiss to her cheekbone, then whispered, "But don't do it 'cause of some stupid age difference. Do it 'cause you don't want me."

The song behind them had come to an end, followed by enthusiastic applause. Olga took a deep breath.

"Thank you for everything," she told him politely, and slid off her stool. She knew he was staring at her, even though she avoided his gaze as she pulled on her jacket and headed for the door. The cold autumn air seared the spot on her cheek where he kissed her. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine his breath still drifting across her ear.

She peaked stealthily back into the window of the bar and wondered when he'd get up and go after her. With baited breath, she waited and waited.

And waited.

He sat at the bar alone and stuck to his word. He didn't follow her.

"I'm making the right choice," she said aloud. A passerby gave her a look that said she was crazy. "I am!" she called out to the stranger, who quickened their pace.

Olga turned in the other direction and walked toward the moonlight. Her shadows followed her all the way home.

* * *


	18. Christmas 1988

** Title:** Christmas 1988  
**Characters/Pairings:** Grandpa Phil  
**Rating:** G  
**Summary:** On December 25, 1988, Grandpa Phil has everything he could ever ask for.  
**Song Prompt:** Eddie Cantor - The Only Thing I Want for Christmas  
**A/N:** Written for the Hey Arnold Holiday 2007 Fanmix! (Visit my profile for a link to the post on LJ, which has song downloads and other ficlets.)

* * *

Phil wakes to the sound of laughter. His sluggish ol' brain fights the dream haze, tries to remember what year it is, what day, when did the last war end. Everything clinks together into a clearer picture soon enough, like it always does (and hopefully will for a long time). He smiles.

Pookie's already up. As if having sensed the moment he opened his eyes, she peeks her head in the bedroom door, wearing a black eye patch with her red Christmas hat.

"We're waitin' on yeh, Capt'n! The first mate is gettin' cranky, havin' to wait to collect his treasures!"

Christmas tunes flood his ears when he makes his way downstairs (after a quick trip to the bathroom - still working through yesterday's prune dumplings, apparently). Miles, Ernie, Oskar, and Mr Hyunh are hovering around their steaming mugs of coffee, the scent of which fills the air. Stella smiles at him from her corner of the couch, where one-year-old Arnold is wiggling on her lap and Abner is snoring on her foot. Loves her like his own mother, that pig does. Doesn't help that she practically treats him like another son.

Stella takes Arnold's little arm and waves it at Phil, saying, "Say hi to Grandpa, Arnold! Say Merry Christmas!"

Arnold vocalizes a greeting of his own in toddler language. Phil reaches toward Arnold's face and says, "Got your nose!" sending Arnold into a fit of giggles.

Pookie stops plundering laundry long enough to pass out gifts. Oskar complains loudly about the ones he receives from the other boarders (-"Toothpicks? Who needs a pack of one-thousand toothpicks?"-) and Miles gets Phil a cane with red and white stripes, like an over-sized candy-cane.

"You'll be needing it soon, dad! I just thought you could start hobbling with style, that's all."

"Never! I'm as healthy as I've ever been!"

Arnold receives the most, of course. Lots of new clothes, toys -- his favorite being the plush plane to replace the plastic one that broke a few weeks back. "PANE!" he bellows out when he sees it.

Afterwards, when even Ernie is too full of holiday joy to whack Oskar over the head with the candy-cane cane anymore, Phil lets his eyes scan the floor littered with wrapping paper, and the glittering tree in the background. Memories of Mitzi and himself flitter in his mind, memories he never talks about. He only lingers on them for a minute or two before packing them away into the back of his mind, where they belong. Miles and Pookie finally wander off to make pancakes -- "And they'd better not have prunes in them!" Phil yells after them.

He feels a tiny hand on his leg, and looks down to see Arnold has crawled over to him, plane still clutched between his little fingers.

He hauls Arnold onto his lap, where the toddler begins to fall asleep after all the excitement, his plane crushed between his chest and his curled arms.

Stella beside him leans in and gives both of them a kiss on the cheek.

"So did you get everything you wanted, Phil?"

He smiles.

"At my age? You learn to be happy just keepin' the things you've got." He looks down at Arnold and feels glad that he has the chance to watch him grow. What more could he ask for?

* * *


	19. Distraction

**Title:** Distraction  
**Characters/Pairings: **Arnold  
**Rating:** G  
**Song Prompt:** Tim Finn - Winter Light  
**A/N:** Written for the Hey Arnold Holiday 2007 Fanmix! (Visit my profile for a link to the post on LJ, which has song downloads and other ficlets.)

* * *

She'd always been there, at the back of his mind.

A little glow of distraction, of curiosity. It was nice, because by the end of the holidays, after Arnold's emotions had been shaken up like a snow globe and were now drifting steadily downward, there wasn't much for him to see beyond the darkness.

The boarders were used to the way Arnold acted this time of year, and they mostly left him alone. Some people might say nine years old was too young to have these kind of depressive mood swings, but Arnold knew he'd be alright. It was only temporary. Distractions like video games or snowball fights never helped, so he just kept to himself for a few days, letting his mind settle, preparing for another year (of being an orphan).

He would be gazing up at his snow-covered skylight ceiling when some memory would surface. Something Helga had said recently, something she'd done. Something uncalled for and completely normal. It was nice to think about her, really. In his darkness, she was a shining enigma, curiously bright but blurred around the edges.

Each year, after the holidays, he wished this would be the year when he'd finally see Helga more clearly.

* * *


	20. Green Christmas

**Title:** Green Christmas  
** Characters/Pairings:** Stella/Miles  
** Rating:** G  
** Summary:** An early glance into Stella and Miles' relationship. Takes place in the mid-80's.  
** Song Prompt: **Bright Eyes - White Christmas  
** A/N:** Written for the Hey Arnold Holiday 2007 Fanmix! (Visit my profile for more info.)

* * *

Stella traced the spine of the journal Miles left behind. It was small and blue and looked relatively new. She wondered if Miles had kept journals all his life, or if he'd only started when he came to San Lorenzo. There were a lot of things she didn't know about him yet, a lot of things she hoped to find out. 

Did he write about personal things? Or was the journal just a chronological record of his adventures? A part of her was tempted to read it, while the other part said to let him have his privacy. It was awfully silly of him, though, to leave behind his _journal_, of all things…

She sat in the silence of the small room, not admitting to herself how much she missed him. It really wasn't that silent at all, though, if she listened hard enough. In the jungle, keeping your ears open is behavior you adapt to quickly. She could hear other people in the camp speaking Spanish, crickets chirping, howler monkeys whooping in the distance... the jungle was never quiet. She was just wondering what it might sound like in a city, where Miles was, when a knock came at her door, startling her out of her reverie.

"Yes?"

"There is a phone call for you, miss Stella."

She knew of only one person who would call this late on Christmas Eve. When she reached the tiny foyer, she pressed the phone to her ear and said, betraying no hint of expectancy, "Stella, speaking."

"Merry Christmas," said a low voice, which caused her stomach to flutter as if she were still a teenage girl.

"It's only eleven o'clock, here," she said, her smile carrying through the tone in her voice. "Christmas is still an hour away."

"Not here, it isn't. I should know. Mom's already made four dozen cookies and set them out for the Easter bunny."

Stella laughed, half wondering if he was joking or if his mom really was as eccentric as he made her out to be. Stella realized she still had his journal in her hand, and she hugged it to her chest.

"So how's the weather?" Miles asked. "Any chance of a white Christmas in San Lorenzo?"

She laughed again. Miles was good at making her do that. "Sixty-nine degrees, sorry. Maybe next year."

"I just can't imagine Christmas without snow. It would be kind of sad, I think."

"Miles, I'm fine. I have more than enough work to keep me busy. If I don't get collect enough of these Pleuroderris ferns before January--"

"I know, I know. Always the hard worker." For a moment, she only heard his breath. "I miss you, Stella."

"I miss you, too."

Stella looked down at the journal, now in her lap. She could mention it to him, but no, there was no reason too. He'd probably already realized he'd left it behind, and it wasn't like she'd read any of it.

It wouldn't hurt to take a quick peek, though, would it?

The daredevil inside getting the best of her, she slowly opened to a random page, saw the words "in love" and quickly slammed it shut again.

"What was that?" Miles asked.

"What? Oh, nothing. Just the, um, monkeys! You know, capuchin monkeys. Throwing rocks on the roof. This entire base is relatively new, they only finished this building a few weeks ago -- and you know how territorial they are. The monkeys, I mean."

"Of course, those darn monkeys," he replied, and she could hear his laughter. Soon, they were laughing together.

"I can't wait to come back and see you again," he continued, "These boarders are driving me nuts, just like the good old days. I should hang up, though. I'll call you tomorrow?"

After they'd bidden each other sweet dreams and hung up, Stella placed the journal back in Miles' bag of jungle clothes and colored pencils, where she'd found it when hunting for a pen. She curled up on her cot and listened again. The noises of the jungle wooed her to sleep, and her dreams, however sweet, where as white as she could ever hope for.

* * *


	21. The Crazy Ones

**Title:** The Crazy Ones  
**Pairing: **Rhonda/Curly  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Word Count: **580  
**Warning: **Underage drinkers, and they aren't ashamed!  
**Summary: **Those crazy summers, those crazy kids.

Audio version available for stream or download. Check my profile for links.

* * *

That summer was as crazy as it was sweaty, but it was all part of Rhonda's big plan to go down in history.

The gang left the city behind in favor of a party at Curly's aunt's house. Rhonda wasn't exactly fond of middle-of-nowhere parties (or Curly, for that matter), but the event was all anybody had talked about for the past two days, and being the Social Monarch she was, she couldn't just _not go_. Um, hello. Attending parties was a pivotal part in maintaining her level of extreme popularity.

Besides, it gave her a reason to show off the shiny new convertible daddy had bought her.

The bonfire was tall and alarmingly primitive for a group of city teens in the twenty-first century, but hey, there was alcohol. There was also a distinct lack of shoes, Rhonda noticed, but she'd have to be pretty drunk before she stepped out of her Italian leather kitten-heel boots. They'd cost four weeks worth of allowance, thank you very much. And anyway, it wasn't like she had any problem standing taller than most of the other girls. And Eugene.

"Can I get you something to drink, milady?" came Curly, out of nowhere. "Beer? Wine cooler? Tall glass of Thaddeus?"

"Ugh!" Rhonda hastily backed away. "God, Curly, don't you ever give up? You and me are never going to happen - get it through your thick skull! Now, which way to the wine coolers?"

He smiled and pointed. "That-a-way."

She flipped her hair dramatically and swaggered off, utilizing a walk she'd practiced many times in the mirror. Rhonda secretly found it ironic that she most felt the need to act like a star in front of the one person who already saw her as one.

Hours rolled by; the party commenced as expected. Eugene was constantly tripping on twigs and falling into the arms of the high-cheekboned sophomore guy he'd brought along. Gerald and Sid were standing on a picnic table, attempting to enact an urban legend. Rhonda commented how spectacularly they were failing to Helga beside her, until she realized Helga was doubled over laughing like a maniac. Whatever was in her cup, Rhonda didn't want to know.

"Hey, where are my boots?"

A sudden panic burrowed into her chest. Oh god, no, not her Italian boots! She'd taken them off, hadn't she? If somebody stole them, there would be hell to pay. Hell!

That's when she spotted Curly past the flames, making his way toward the cornfield, something suspiciously boot-sized in his hand. She slapped down her cup and strode after him.

"Following me?" Curly asked, grin glinting in the moonlight, once she'd tiptoed across the cold, uneven ground.

"You wish," Rhonda said. "Now give me my boots."

"Make me," he dared, holding the boots behind his back. Rhonda glared in response, and then, in a moment of unsound thinking, she kissed him.

He reacted instantly, wrapping his warm arms around her waist as she clenched his ugly rock band t-shirt between her fingers. The kiss was wet and slippery, wild and satisfying, and she only found the will to pull away when his glasses jabbed her eyebrow.

"I always knew you'd tap into your crazy side sooner or later," he said, dropping the boots and tossing his glasses off into the shadowy mess of corn stalks.

"There might be something in it for me," she drawled, tugging him closer. "It's the crazy ones that go down in history, after all."

* * *


	22. Shining Through

**Title:** Shining Through  
**Pairing:** Sid/?? (surprise!)  
**Prompt:** haprompts Set Twenty-five, Prompt E: Labyrinth  
**Rating:** PG  
**Wordcount:** 152

* * *

The thing was, Sid wasn't any good at hiding his emotions. Never had been.

So it was only a matter of time before someone (namely Helga) caught him gazing longingly at his crush. Helga said nothing, however. Just raised an amused eyebrow, then:

"Catch you tomorrow, compadre." She swung her backpack over her shoulder and left for the bus stop. He waited until she was gone, and then pretended to shine his boot while he eyed the object of his affections a little more.

Maybe it was just a fleeting thing. Sweaty palms, avoiding eye contact... maybe just a puberty thing. Maybe once he hit fifteen or sixteen and found himself on the other side of this hormonal labyrinth of emotions, he wouldn't feel this way? Who knew.

All he knew, was every time he looked at Gerald, it was as though the clouds were parting, and the sun was shining through.

* * *


	23. Repayment

**Title:** Repayment  
**Pairing:** Curly/Eugene  
**Rating:** PG  
**Wordcount:** 200  
**Author's note: **Embrace the insanity.

* * *

Eugene didn't have a lot experience with mountain climbing. It wasn't that he wasn't interested... it was just, well, he wasn't the luckiest guy in Hillwood, you know? That's why the carnival's fake rock-climbing wall seemed like a safe alternative. More safe than the real thing, right? Still, he screamed in terror as he fell. 

But the landing, for once in his life, didn't cause great physical pain or knock him unconscious. In fact, he seemed to have landed in someone's arms.

"Wow, Curly. You saved me. I'm _actually_ okay!" Eugene got to his feet and blinked, dumbfounded; this had never happened before. "This has never happened before. Thank you! Is there some way I can pay you back?"

Curly rubbed his chin in a thoughtful, insane sort of way. "A kiss, perhaps?"

"What?" Eugene asked, glancing around for any spectators, but clearly Eugene plummeting to his near-death was a spectacle short-lived. "I don't think that's such a good idea..."

Suddenly, Curly's lips were pressed up against his own. As quickly as it started, Curly broke off and began to back away, disappearing into the crowd.

"Adequate repayment, my fair prince! But next time I'll expect advancement to second base!"

* * *


	24. Valley Dream

**Title:** Valley Dream  
**Characters/Pairings:** Helga  
**Rating:** G/K  
**Words:** 100

* * *

Helga looks down into the valley and sees a thin stream. So thin, in fact, that she could stand in the middle and drench nothing above the bottom hem of her jeans. She sneaks toward it, as if sneaking is necessary, and kneels down, dipping her fingers in. The water looks brown like the underlying mud that steers it toward the nearest river.

To the east, the valley ascends into a grassy meadow. Helga imagines a cottage, a windmill; a place independent from the world.

This would've been a nice place to build a home, if things had worked out.

* * *


	25. Good Luck

**Title:** Good Luck  
**Characters/Pairings:** Eugene/Curly  
**Rating:** G/K  
**Words:** 134

* * *

It was obvious how nervous Eugene was with the way he hopped back and forth, as if stepping on hot coals. Curly smiled, reminiscing the times he'd walked on coals himself. Always a good way to spice up a boring evening.

The crowd broke into applause, the lights dimmed, and a slew of performers in shiny costumes flowed offstage. Curly still had a few minutes to go, but Eugene was up next.

"Wish me luck!" he chirped. Then, with an expression that suggested there simply wasn't enough time to hesitate, he threw his arms around Curly for a quick hug before skipping onto the dark stage, just in time for the curtains to sweep open.

Curly watched from the shadows, feeling a crazy little emotion fluttering in his gut, but that was nothing new.

* * *


	26. Nothing Lasts Forever

**Title:** Nothing Lasts Forever  
**Characters/Pairings:** Arnold  
**Rating:** G/K  
**Words:** 100

* * *

Letters still came regularly, if you could believe it. Even after two years. Whether it was his grandparents' crazy stories, or old friends seeking answers to their problems. Hillwood was miles away but he still felt close to everybody. Through these letters, the neighborhood that he fought to save lived on.

Of course, nothing lasts forever.

Rhonda's letters were always rife with gossip, he expected this, but none of the words shocked him the way Rhonda probably intended, until:

"_--caught Helga and Gerald making out outside the gymnasium! Can you believe it?--_"

Arnold never felt more far away.

* * *


	27. Hold on Tight

**Title:** Hold on Tight  
**Pairing:** Helga/Gerald  
**Rating:** PG  
**W****ords:** 358

* * *

The explosion shook everything.

Gerald lost his footing and rolled across the cement. A hand reached down to pull him up, and then the two of them were off again, sprinting for cover as the heat charged them from behind. Ashes on Gerald's eyelashes obscured his vision. He held on tightly to Helga's hand, trusting her to guide them to refuge. Without her, he was pretty sure he would've been lost back there, what with shock slowing his response time, and his mind being pelted with dazed thoughts like "explosion?!" and "near death!"

They finally rounded a corner to the relative safety of an alley. Gerald bent at the waist with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Beside him, Helga was clawing for something inside her pocket.

"Man!" he said, shaking his head. "How the heck did we get roped into this kind of life, anyway?"

A wild smile lit up Helga's ash-smeared face. "Your kiddin', right? We were born for this!" Gerald wanted to object ("Explosion! Near death!") but Helga was already unlocking the doors to the sports car he had only just noticed parked in front of them. She waved for him to follow her. "C'mon, we gotta go!"

He stayed rooted on the spot. Gaze stuck on the "SPR SPY" license plate, he couldn't believe the mayhem that had become his life. Is this how it was going to be from now on? Sports cars and explosions and Bond-esque supervillains plotting their demise? Before he could notice his own delay, Helga was standing in front of him rolling her eyes, and then crushing her mouth against his. As quick as it happened, it was over, Helga already climbing back in the car. She put it in reverse and backed up so fast he had to jump out of the way. The brakes slammed with the passenger door directly in front of him, window rolling down.

"Get in the car, Geraldo!"

This time without hesitation, he threw open the door, climbed in, and held on tight. Might be crazy ride, but he'd be damned before he missed out on any of it.

* * *


	28. Untitled, or Unlucky Green Undies

**Title:** Untitled, or Unlucky Green Undies  
**Characters/Pairings:** Arnold, Helga/Lila, Gerald  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Words:** ~430  
**Warnings:** CRACK! Emo!Arnold! Oh, and crack.  
**A/N:** For the nick_girlslash prompt (on livejournal): "It's _exactly_ what you think." I'm loathe to admit I put a bit more emphasis on Arnold than girlslash. Hopefully this deficiency will be tolerated and I will not be pelted with hard, bosomy rocks.

* * *

Arnold was having the worst day of his life.

First off, Grandma thought it was Saint Patrick's Day again and dyed his lucky white undies green; second, he failed the history exam that he studied all night for; and to top it all off, it had been exactly one fortnight since Helga broke up with him. Fortnight isn't really an American word but this is Arnold's inner monologue and he's in deep pain so he'll use the word if he wants to -- OK?

Since the break-up, Helga hadn't shot a single spitball at him. Even while they were dating, she hadn't given up on the spitball thing, but now, suddenly (for the past fortnight) she was _too good_ to shoot spitballs at him. That's why he failed the exam; without spitballs, he couldn't concentrate! He'd never been without intermittent spitballs before! It was weird!

Arnold dragged his feet down the checkered floored hall. "High school sucks ball-- oh, hi, Angus."

"Alfred!" cried Angus the janitor, "Have you--have you seen my broom?"

"It's probably in the janitor's closet."

"Right! Right, well done," he said, stroking his wrinkly old chin with his wrinkly old index finger and wrinkly old thumb. "And where might that be?"

"It's right over there-- don't worry, I'll get the broom for you," Arnold offered, because is a Nice Guy. He dragged his feet past a group of turbulent drama students until he reached the aforementioned closet. He opened the door dramatically, because drama students are catchy. To his shock and dismay, instead of a broom he found Helga with Lila Sawyer in her arms, both girls in a state of disarray. Upon seeing him, Lila went red (scratch that: redder) all over.

"It isn't what you think!" she claimed, tugging her bra strap back onto her shoulder.

"Hah!" Helga said, pulling Lila possessively close with one arm. "It's _exactly_ what you think, football-head."

She slammed the door in Arnold's face.

"Well!" came Gerald's familiar gravely voice from behind Arnold. "_My_ day just got a little brighter!"

Arnold shot a tearful glare at Gerald and exclaimed, "If my undies weren't green, this wouldn't have happened!" He buried his face in his hands and ran away.

"Was it somethin' I said?" Gerald asked the air. He glanced around, then pressed his ear to the door and closed his eyes, envisioning the bootylicious girl-on-girl shenanigans that must be taking place beyond that very door. He heaved a great, masculine sigh.

"Aw, man. If only I had breasts and pigtails. If _only_."

* * *


	29. Anything You Say

**Title:** Anything You Say  
**Pairing:** Helga/Arnold  
**Words**: 174  
**Prompt:** aggressive!Helga and helpless!Arnold, requested by kev1000

* * *

Helga aimed the gun at the trashcan and fired.

"See? I told you it was loaded."

Eyes theatrically wide, Arnold held up his hands and took on a calming voice. "Hold on, Helga. If you lower the gun, I'm sure we can talk this out."

"It's too late for that. You made your decision, bucko," Helga said, taking aim at Arnold's head, "now I'm making mine."

"But maybe--"

Helga fired the gun.

The stream of water hit him straight in the face. Some of it even got up his nose. Helga pumped the trigger at least six times until every inch of his face was doused, his attempts at blocking the flow with his hands proving fruitless.

"Alright, alright!" Arnold cried out. "Alright, I surrender. _The Z-Files_ can wait until another day." He reached for the remote and turned the television off. "Tonight, I'm all yours."

Helga lowered the gun a few inches, considering. "You'll do anything I want?"

Chuckling as the cold water trickled down his shirt, he looked his wife in the eye.

"Anything."

* * *


	30. Boyish Anticipation

**Title:** Boyish Anticipation  
**Rating:** G  
**Words:** 518  
**Prompt:** Curly/Eugene, airplanes -- as requested by squirrel_tamer

* * *

"Telephone, short man!"

"Coming, Grandpa!" Arnold called out, absentmindedly dropping the remote control to his model airplane into Eugene's hands. He was climbing down to his room via the skylight when he realized what he'd done, but masked his apprehension well. "Just -- I'll be back in a minute. Don't fly it yet, okay, Eugene?"

"Sure, Arnold."

Eugene and Curly were left alone to admire Arnold's twenty-five-inch airplane, painstakingly painted to look like a real airliner.

"Arnold's airplane is pretty fantastic," Eugene commented.

Curly shrugged. "It's okay, I guess. My uncle paints clouds on his planes, so they blend with the sky and are hard to see. Makes flying them a lot more fun!"

Eugene didn't see the specialness of a blue airplane, himself. He thought all remote-controlled airplanes were pretty special, and he'd be happy to fly any old plane, no matter the color. "I hope he lets me fly it. I've never flown one before."

"Here, I'll show you how," Curly said, plucking the control from Eugene's hands. He protested, but Curly waved him away. "Relax, I've done this a million times!"

Curly held the remote with a casualness that suggested he really had done this a million times (for all Eugene knew, maybe he had) and soon steered the plane to the far end of Arnold's roof. The engine was humming, the propeller was whirling fast, and then it sped forward along the length of the roof, gaining speed and taking liftoff seconds before it would have crashed into the parapet.

"Wow," Eugene praised, eyes never leaving the small aircraft as it curved steadily over the neighboring buildings.

Curly sidestepped toward Eugene. "Here, now you try," he said, pushing the remote into Eugene's hands and maneuvering his thumbs over the control sticks. Eugene protested, of course ("--but I've never--Arnold spent so much time--what if I--") but it wasn't long before boyish anticipation took over, and he was whooping cheerfully as they together guided the airplane high into the sky.

After briefly explaining the basics of the controls, Curly took his hands away, and then Eugene was flying the plane all by himself.

"See?" Curly said and smiled. "Piece of cake."

"I'm doing it! I'm flying an airplane! This is _incredible_!"

Eugene was still declaring his excitement when Arnold emerged from the skylight, a confused look on his face. "Boy, Helga sure is strange.... Hey! I thought I said not to..." He let his sentence go unfinished as he watched Eugene steer the plane smoothly over Mrs. Vitello's flower shop. "Wow, you're doing really good, Eugene."

Eugene grinned at Curly, who waggled his eyebrows in reply. He bumped elbows with Eugene, as if to say, _'I told you so,'_ then went over to Arnold to brag about his uncle's sky blue planes which apparently were also capable of dropping plastic egg "bombs".

The spot on his elbow where Curly had touched him tingled a bit, and Eugene rubbed it absentmindedly, thinking about the silly way Curly smiled at him as Arnold's plane collided with an antenna.

* * *


	31. The Aliens Always Win

**Title:** The Aliens Always Win  
**Pairing:** Phoebe/Gerald  
**Rating:** K+  
**Words:** ~230  
**A/N:** This is for kev1000's prompt "Phoebe/Gerald, support". I went a little spooky with it because Halloween is in the air! I already watched Headless Cabbie and Arnold's Halloween this week! xD

* * *

Gerald is not surprised to find an alien standing over him with probing eyes. He has been through this before, and knows the fight is not worth it. They always win. His only hope of escape is to shut is eyes. If he falls asleep, will he dream? Will he wake up? Can he tell the difference, anymore?

The alien extracts a small, silver device that makes Gerald's blood run cold.

"No, please," he musters, finally stirred out of his resignation. "No, please, don't!"

His pleas get no reaction. He jerks back, but there is nowhere to go. Restrained to a hard, cold table, his head smacks back against it when he struggles.

"STOP! LET ME GO!"

The hard surface beneath his head is suddenly not hard at all, but warm and pliant. It is Phoebe's hand, supporting his head as she rocks Gerald against her chest. She urges comforting sounds into his hair, and his experienced ears detect a hint of exasperation, but he is content to pretend he doesn't hear it.

On the other side of his gratefulness is guilt. Guilt for waking Phoebe up in the night with these eerie nightmares. This is not, however, enough to pry himself out of her arms. He clings, reluctant to close his eyes again in case he wakes up somewhere else, until eventually his body gives him no choice.


	32. The Librarian and Her Helper

**Title:** The Librarian and Her Helper  
**Pairing:** Phoebe/Stinky  
**Rating:** PG  
**Words:** ~300  
**Summary:** Phoebe's library is burned and she is sentenced to death by wild beast in the arena. But she is not alone. Byzantine Empire AU; early 5th century.  
**A/N:** seemslikeaporno wrote the terrific Phoebe/Stinky ficlet "hurricane drunk" (on livejournal) some time ago, and the pairing shocked me with it's amazing awesomeness. So naturally I had to try it too. ^.^ I went historical AU, 'cause history is on the brain, as of late.

* * *

"Go back!" Phoebe yelled as Stinky approached. "You'll be killed!"

She stood agape as he crossed the arena, sand kicking up behind his long, calm strides. Dread rose inside her like an oncoming storm. The impulse to breath abandoned her and left her dead already, or perhaps dying to die. Her own voice went unheard under the audience, and only when Stinky finally reached her, politely bending down close, could she hear his explanation.

"I couldn't let you stand out here alone, Miss Phoebe."

She felt rage. Rage that it had come to this, and that Stinky could be so calm and sure of himself in the face of it. A contrast to his demeanor, his robes where in a state - clenched under her fists, she realized. So she relaxed her hands and searched inside herself for the courage to be calm. These past weeks, her _last_, had gone by too fast and too undervalued. Even amidst the dull tasks of lifting bags of scrolls and reaching high shelves, Phoebe had recognized that Stinky's calmness was something to be admired.

In exchange for his good service, she had agreed to teach him how to read.

"I'm sorry we couldn't finish our lessons," she said between shallow, constricted breaths.

Stinky smiled, and Phoebe thought she might have finally detected a hint of nerves. "Books weren't what kept me comin' back."

There was thunderous cheering all around them as the lions were let loose. Phoebe kept her gaze upward, relaxing it there where Stinky's eyes matched the color of the skies, and where his lips overcast hers by a finger's-breadth.

The citizens of Constantinople were bloodthirsty and not at all shy about it. But many would later on find themselves thinking back on that simple final kiss - between the librarian and her helper - as the most entertaining spectacle of the day.


	33. You Have a Visitor

**Title:** You Have a Visitor  
**Characters:** Stella  
**Rating:** PG  
**Words:** 240

* * *

Stella was not broken. But there were times she thought she might be cracking, like right now. There was a prison guard speaking to her. He did not speak English, but she knew his language well enough to understand _you have a visitor_. She rose out of her corner, over the envious eyes of other women, and followed the guard down the corridor. The stone floor was sticky against her bare feet.

She had never had a visitor before. It seemed unimaginable, after all this time. Either it's a mistake, or she is finally cracking. Dare she hope otherwise? She tried to hope. She tried to be brave enough to hope. It was hard to identify bravery anymore without Miles.

The guard stopped outside the visitor's room and allowed Stella to walk herself in. Hard light from the ceiling substituted the lack of natural light. It spotlighted the white man, who watched her as she crossed the room. Before she reached the table, questions were jumping out of her mouth. "Are you from the American embassy? Can you get me out of here?"

As she dropped in her seat, the man rose from his. He rounded the table fast and put his arms on her. It was only after a few stiff moments encased in his dry warm arms that she realized... this wasn't an aggressive touch. This was a hug.

"Yeah, mom," the man answered, and pulled back to reveal tears. "You're free."


End file.
